


swipe right

by madameofmusic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, tinder au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameofmusic/pseuds/madameofmusic
Summary: Kent Parson swipes left on the man sitting next to him at the airport. It works in his favor.





	swipe right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingonpostcards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/gifts).



> You asked for a rom-com style fic based on this: https://whatthehellisahoechlin.tumblr.com/image/183252099528 [My flight was delayed 3 hours so I was doing what any human does when they're bored. Minding my own business swiping through tinder & the guy behind me goes "ouch hard no for that one?" And I turn around only to see the man I just swiped no on behind me.] I hope I (mostly) delivered!
> 
> Big thanks to the person who beta'd this fic (whom I will reveal after the 10th as per usual), and thank you for such a fun prompt!

In most respects, Kent Parson is an excellent captain. His house is the first one offered to rookies and trades before they move elsewhere, he's great at listening to his team and communicating to the coaching staff about their concerns, and he's a great player. He knows this about himself.

He also knows that, after the hell season they just had, after being knocked out game seven of round three, after clawing their way to the playoffs and through the first two rounds in four games, he's been a little off his game. 

Okay, maybe a lot off his game, because the guy staring at him now doesn't look familiar at all, even as he's greeting Kent as his new captain. It's possible though that Kent is still reeling from embarrassment.

It goes like this.

After their playoff run, Kent takes a vacation to Florida. He'd visited there only once before being drafted, and, in the years since then, it's become one of his favorite places. He goes alone, as he always does, and stays for a month.

He's sitting in the airport, scrolling through Tinder. It's not like it matters, because in five hours he'll be back in Vegas anyway, so he doesn't swipe right on any of them.

The guy next to him, dark-haired and unfortunately gorgeous once Kent gets a good look at him, laughs. Kent tilts his head up from staring at his phone, only to meet the eyes of the man he'd just rejected on Tinder.

He looks amused. "Hard no on that one, then?"

Kent stutters, and looks back down at his phone. "I'm from Vegas?" 

The man holds out a hand. "Funny enough, me too." He still looks like he's in on a joke Kent isn't picking up on.

Kent takes the hand cautiously and gives it a shake. He's scrambling for words, trying to make up for the utter embarrassment that is rejecting someone who's sitting right next to you, and not noticing until after they call you on it.

"Jeff Troy," he supplies, gripping Kent's hand firmly. "What takes you to Florida?" The man asks. 

"Kent. Just visiting after… a few hard work weeks."

Jeff nods. "That last game was brutal on you guys. I'm a Schooners man myself, but you guys shoulda taken it."

Kent gapes at him. Part of the reason he likes spending time in states like this, in cities like these, is that no one seems to ever recognize him. He doesn't like the feeling.

Jeff's grin only gets wider. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

Kent, feeling a bit like a guppy in a fishbowl, shakes his head, mouth moving trying to make up for his string of faux pas and failing. "The Aces signed me last week from the Lightning."

"Oh, god." Kent mutters, pulling out his phone again. Management had given him the list of names they'd acquired, but he hadn't recognized any, so he'd archived the email and figured he'd deal with it come development camp. 

Sure enough, the name Jeff Troy sits three down, with a short bio. College-educated but with an unfinished degree, right-winger, from Tampa. 

"I'm so sorry," Kent says, the tips of his ears still flaming. "It's been a rough couple weeks."

Jeff looks unbothered. "Don't worry about it." He shifts to face Kent more fully, crossing his legs and throwing his arm around the back. Kent takes a moment that he really shouldn't to admire him. 

He's attractive, Kent knows this, and if they had been in Vegas, or if Jeff wasn't currently now playing for the Aces, Kent would have swiped right.

Jeff's lips tilt into a smirk. "So, what should I expect in Vegas?"

Kent, brain apparently completely non-functional today, says "It's hot."

Jeff lets out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, I know that."

Before he can say anything else, the intercom at the terminal crackles to life, and starts letting people on the plane. Kent nods to Jeff. "I'll see you in Vegas."

Jeff lifts a hand, giving him a lazy wave. 

Kent settles on the plane about halfway down. He considered first class, he always does, but he doesn't see the point. It's nicer, but Kent likes the low chatter of a plane ride that comes with coach seating, and he enjoys feeling like just another face in the crowd, even if only for a few hours. 

"Huh." Kent sees his seatmate stop out of the corner of his eye, and he looks up at the confused sound they make.

Naturally, because the universe refuses to let him live down anything, it's Jeff. 

"Well, now you can tell me all about Vegas," Jeff says, flopping down in the seat right next to Kent, and shoving his carry on underneath the seats in front of them.

Kent looks around, wondering if they'll have another seatmate, but the plane's trickle of stragglers has stalled. He looks back at Jeff, who's staring unabashedly at him, one eyebrow raised in interest. "Don't tell anyone," Kent says, gesturing at his phone and making a swipe gesture, leaning in and lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "Vegas is more progressive than a lot of places, but maybe not that progressive yet."

Jeff snorts. "You don't have to tell me twice." He leans in as well. "I do think you should reconsider that swipe, though." 

Kent sputters as Jeff laughs and leans back. "Tell me about the coaching staff."

Kent gapes at him for a few moments, and then huffs, deciding to ignore it for now. 

They land a few hours later, and Kent almost feels… disappointed. Jeff is easy to talk to, eager to listen and ask questions, but not afraid to immediately begin teasing Kent like they've played together for years. 

He wants to… reconsider the swipe, as Jeff put it. But he also knows that it's a bad idea, that letting anyone else get close to him isn't a smart move, and especially if that person is a new teammate. 

But Kent Parson has never been known for making smart decisions off the ice, and he  _ wants _ . 

“Hey, Jeff,” he calls out, catching up to the other man in the parking lot after leaving him to wait for a taxi. “Can I give you a ride?”

Jeff levels him a look, eyes flicking over him, up, down, and then he nods. “Sure.”

  
  
Jeff Troy, now fondly called Swoops by his new teammates, is thinking that, in some strange way, Parse is trying to make up for their first meeting. He’d apologized on the car ride home from the airport, explained that he didn’t do much dating anymore, and swore that  _ if we weren’t teammates _ … Jeff lets that last one linger. 

He’s been letting it linger for months. Kent has taken him to dinner (as friends), to see Jeff’s favorite comedian on his birthday (as friends, even though Jeff’s still unsure of how Kent even knew Jeff liked her, as he’s pretty sure he’d never mentioned even enjoying  _ comedy shows _ to Kent) and, once, at the New Year’s Eve party with the team at Kent’s house, Kent had handed him a nice cashmere sweater in his favorite shade of blue, and shrugged when Jeff asked why. “Late Christmas present,” Kent insists, and refuses to let Jeff bring it up again. 

It’s…  _ infuriating. _ For one, Jeff had told him almost immediately that the whole Tinder thing was no big deal. 

For another, it sure feels a lot like Kent is trying to woo him, and Jeff, normally so sure of himself, has no clue what to do about it. 

So he goes with his gut. 

He invites Kent to a basketball game the night before their bye week officially begins. He figures that, if his intended course of action goes poorly, than at least they’ll have a week to get over any weirdness before their next game. 

Kent agrees, and Jeff gets them court-side seats. He ends up watching Kent more than the game. 

Mostly, Jeff thinks, he’s frustrated because Kent is easy to like, and easier to imagine loving. He’s passionate, and caring, and Jeff’s had a lot of terrible exes, so he knows exactly what he wants, and that’s Kent. 

Kent looks over halfway through the fourth quarter, and catches Jeff staring. He stares back for a second, and then gives Jeff a funny little smile, before launching into a story about Scraps’s attempts to best their goalie in one-on-one basketball the summer before, and losing terribly. 

Or something like that. Jeff’s given up on listening, instead letting Kent’s voice wash over him, mixed with the sounds of the court in front of them and the crowd behind them. 

Kent leaves the game an hour after it ends, Jeff walking with his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat next to him. They’d wanted to head out right after, but had gotten trapped by a group of fans clamoring for signatures. 

The Vegas sky, Kent imagines, would look gorgeous right now were it not for all the light pollution. “Thanks for taking me tonight,” he says, breaking the companionable silence they’ve built between them. “I haven’t gone to a game in a while.” 

Jeff smiles at him. “Course. Seemed fair after you took me to that show last month.” 

Kent colors under the strange warmth, the inordinate, confusing amount of fondness on Jeff’s face. “Still.” 

They walk in silence some more, Jeff’s elbow brushing his own every so often. Kent’s apartment looms before them in no time at all. 

He turns to Jeff, who’s suddenly much closer than Kent expected him to be. “So.” 

Jeff raises an eyebrow, lips curling into a soft smile. “So.” 

“I’ll see you at practice?” 

Jeff’s smile falters a bit, but he covers it up quickly enough that Kent wouldn’t have noticed had he not spent the last half a dozen months cataloguing everything he knows and notices about Jeff into a small, unvoiced box inside of him. “Of course.”

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Kent says, making no effort to move away from Jeff. 

“Anytime you want,” Jeff says, voice low and warm. “Kent?” 

Kent swallows, and hums a questioning noise. 

Jeff glances off to the side, seemingly wrestling with something, the line of his jaw working furiously as he chews on the inside of his cheek, a nervous tick Kent can’t ever get enough of. He finally looks back. “Can I-” Jeff stops, licks his lips, and starts again. “Can I kiss you?” 

Kent sucks in a small breath of air, and, against his better judgement and everything screaming inside him about how bad of an idea this is, says yes. 

Jeff tastes like kettle corn and the cotton candy he insisted on making Kent split with him. Kent leans into it, hands pressed to Jeff’s chest. Jeff’s arms circle Kent’s waist and pull him closer, using every advantage his four inches of height on Kent gives him. 

They break, Kent’s chest heaving from lack of air and what feels like six months of nervous energy coming out all at once. “Huh,” he mumbles, dropping his head to Jeff’s shoulder. 

Jeff presses a kiss to the top of Kent’s head, his hands snaking underneath Kent’s fleece jacket and finding purchase on his hips. “What?” 

“I should have swiped right. We could have been doing this all along.” 

Kent silently marks the sound of Jeff’s laughter in the cool night air as one of his new favorite sounds. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Happy KPBB 2019!


End file.
